


Zeev

by Alexej_Axis



Category: Original Work
Genre: Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Implied/Referenced Incest, Magic, Masturbation, Multi, Narcissism, Post-Apocalypse, Rape/Non-con Elements, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Self-cest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-20 20:30:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14268939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexej_Axis/pseuds/Alexej_Axis
Summary: 300 years after the first pioneers of the Allied Nations broke the seal of the bunker and peered into the outside world, blinded by the light, hungry for a new beginning, this auto-biographic tale of a young warlock offers a retrospective on the human condition and how it ended everything. But progress can't be stopped and every ending makes for a new beginning; all lost souls seek Eden.





	1. Preludium

**Author's Note:**

> If you find any inconsistencies or errors in my writing, please kindly let me know. English is my second language, so I am doing my best to do it justice, but I might not always succeed and appreciate any help.
> 
> If you enjoy my stories and/or art and would like to support me, you can [buy me a ko-fi here](https://ko-fi.com/alexejaxis) \- it's wholeheartedly appreciated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mood Song: [Agnes Obel - Riverside](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vjncyiuwwXQ)

### Preludium

He called me **Zeev** *. According to him, it means ‘wolf’ in the Holy Tongue.  
Adrian had a way with words and a peculiar approach to the world and its mysteries.  
Words were a song to him, not a mere means of communication. A song that illustrates the world and shapes it at the same time rather than vice versa. A romantic and thus questionable attitude for a scientist, but very much a defining trait of his Praharian charmes. Difficult under the circumstances and deliberately so if I ever knew him. His arrogant obsession with his own intellect however, that was a less career-unhinging feature of his personality.  
All mysteries had to be conquered and owned and he would nobody else have them, if it was up to him - but of course it wasn’t. He was a slave to a system that had decided the whole purpose of his life was to unravel and surrender these mysteries to benefit their great nation; sacrificed in the name of their obsession called Progress and their virtue called Greed.  
So it is quite fitting that when meeting a stranger who had been submitted to him as a ‘patient’, a ‘mystery’ for him to solve, the first thing he did was claiming him in any way he could without forfeiting his own purpose.  
He took my name away.  
As one of God’s Forsaken Children, he was ambitious, driven and possessive, yet never satisfied with what he had; always comparing himself to another. But for some reason, from the moment he first set his odd eyes on me, he seemed to be obsessed with making me his in more ways than one, yet never compared himself to me.  
“Your old life is over, **Zeev** ,” he said to me once. “Let it go. Submit the illusion of who you thought you are to the water and be reborn through my helping hands. You need to put an end to the old to start something new. Let us sit by the river and watch your broken pieces float by like driftwood. And while you condole with your shattered dreams, we drink to you, to the future, to a new life full of unlimited potential.”  
So he baptized me down by the riverside, with a name from a dead language that is one of the greatest mysteries of our time. A language I would never be able to comprehend because it simply refused to be understood by anyone but the last, sad remnants of The One’s shining host. A name so elusive that every time he spoke it, it would resonate with me, deeply and intimately, but I couldn't even attempt to speak it myself.  
I had to trust him. Trust him to give meaning to my very being after everything had been stripped from me.  
It was a game of power, as it is common nature for us Marked Ones to play, and although I was no stranger to powerplay due to my family background and impeccable ego, little did I know about its rules on the supernatural chess board back then. Eventually, my doctor would prove himself as a fine and cruel teacher to a young and inexperienced wolf.  
To Adrian, knowledge was power. The purest, most desirable power in the world. And he had an unquenchable thirst for it that rooted in an endless pit of envy and contempt for the ones who shape the reality we live in through their actions.  
That was one thing I loved about him.  
One of too many things.

But let’s not get ahead of ourselves now. By the end of these pages, it will make sense to you, dear reader, why I have chosen to introduce myself through how I first met another. It will also reveal why I can spell my name, and you, no matter how much you might have tried, cannot. Seeing it written just leaves a meaning, a powerful imprint you cannot deny while leaving you puzzled and longing at the same time.  
Unless you are one of the Odd Eyed yourself, of course - the Founders beware this will ever fall into the hands of one of them, though.  
So assuming you are not cursed with Invidia, let me assure you I have no plans of testing your patience too much; there's going to be plenty of entertainment in it for you, too. 

I will try to unravel the events that are never to be retold for my own sake. I know that if I perish, all of this will be lost to the world. Because this powerful machine of an empire that calls itself a nation will never let it happen that anyone poor Sinner in particular will be remembered the way they see fit.  
And that alone is a good reason for who I am now and why I have to write his down against better judgement.  
Are you intrigued? Ah, the honor is mine, dear reader. Let’s unleash the power of that song Adrian deemed so important, let there be inked words, an epitaph for myself, dark and unsettling like a shadow; as I shall never be able to speak of this again.


	2. Awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoy my stories and/or art and would like to support me, you can buy me a ko-fi [here](https://ko-fi.com/alexejaxis) \- it's wholeheartedly appreciated.
> 
> Mood Song: [Ramstein - Mein Herz Brennt (Piano Version - no vocals)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SV6cxVCI5mg)

Let’s take it slow and start from the very beginning, shall we?  
An interesting fact about me: I am no ordinary man. You might have figured as much from my introduction or you are completely clueless. The latter wouldn't surprise me, as our government goes to great length to carefully omit the fact that we exist.  
But no matter if you are a part of the Twilight or not, It makes sense to explain my world to you through my coming-of-age story rather than lengthy, scientific ramblings. 

My journey begins in the year 333 after the Breach. We are looking at Kyi or Kiev as they say in the Badlands, a relatively young and strong outpost of the Allied Nations - a trading enclave who audited to be taken into the arms of the invading Alliance forces from the East in 217 by free will; and has prospered and blossomed ever since. Kyi has always been the poster child of the Alliance propaganda, the evidence that surrender pays off and unity brings progress. A place were technology wasn't as mysterious and out of reach as in Moskva, as young, striving entrepreneurs with proper business sense and enthusiastic boldness spearheaded the media revolution, bringing radios into public spaces for entertainment, and a longplayer into almost every home. Where merchants and manufacturers clever enough to aim high and settle for less overwhelmed bureaucracy with communal spirit and win/win scenarios to electrify 20% of all homes and connect the majority of all households in the city to clean water; raising productivity by almost 60%.  
Kyi, the humble little sister to Moskva, who seemingly got away with everything due to her charms and common sense; my place of birth and home at heart if I ever knew any.  
Born and raised as the heir to a family of such entrepreneurs, I lived a privileged life, ambitious and dedicated to the cause of progress and pride of the new elite. 

My life would change dramatically in autumn 333; as awakening to my powers was traumatic at best and a nightmarish descent to hell at worst. I had no mentor, no handbook and no clue - just the crippling fear that if I would reveal my ‘sickness’ to the authorities, they would take my life away. So I swallowed the nightmares which became my reality until I wept blood and my fingertips burst open with fire. When I hit the first of the Seven Circles, I was overwhelmed by a rush of fear and denial, obviously. But somehow I managed to keep talking everybody out of informing the authorities and my family had the best and the worst doctors bribed to treat the symptoms.  
The Seven Circles are a period during the awakening of a young Marked One, where they fall prey to all of the seven carnal sins, one by one until the barrel stops at your final destination. It’s a wild ride that puts all your personality issues from puberty into a corner of your brain, pisses on them and then lights them on fire - along with your mind, flesh and soul.  
A wild ride, indeed. There’s nothing like it. But I honestly don’t remember too much of the details. This was more than ten years ago and at the time, I was a very different person, naturally. I also don't want to bore you to death with visions of my dead baby brother, my violent temper tantrums or the many times I slipped into the underworld for no reason in particular - all met with stubborn resilience and desperate coping mechanisms.  
I DO remember the first time I met my Daimon, though and very vividly at that. Not just in a hazy dream, staring at me from a distant underworld, but for real, facing me, touching me - when our worlds became one. I remember the night I awoke to my true self.  
Firsts are usually a turning point and in this case, even an interesting one. So I feel it's valid to borrow your attention for a little longer and share this in more detail. 

I was 17 at the time, only weeks away from my 18th birthday. I was practicing a speech for the investors that night, in front of a tall mirror in my new business suit. Circle Seven had been in full swing as mentioned, and I had spent the past couple of weeks on a high spree of Vanity. With my senses sharp and my confidence over amplified by the rush of sin, I had taken bold steps to proof myself as an asset to my father in leading the family enterprise. He had agreed to letting me speak to the full board and introduce me as his junior assistant after my success with the Velkor execution plan.  
My idea to weaken our most dangerous competitor by spreading rumors about their financial situation and stealing their secrets by hiring their most talented engineers in the wake of our sabotage had been quite fruitful. He was pleased with my sense of business and my shameless pursuit of success. Actually, he was a bit shocked, too, as he has a sense of honor that is quite adorable for a business man.  
I had to convince him to try such measures but it worked splendidly for me as what was welling up inside of me now, as the Vanity faded, was a rush of relentless Greed.  
A carnal Greed that sharpened my senses and filled me with an unquenchable thirst to reap what I had sown.

I stood there, in front of the tall mirror while the clock tolled midnight, talking to my reflection, practicing the speech, my stance, and intonation for what might have been the seventh time. I had dismissed all servants and locked the door to not be disturbed, when I suddenly felt a weird rush of blood to my skin.  
The tickling sensation grabbed me tight and unexpectedly like a skilled lover - taking my breath away. It was a heated and powerful embrace; affecting my whole body.  
I stood there, numb and lost in the overwhelming impulse, thinking of a reason why this haptic confusion had befallen me all of a sudden. Staring at the mirror with hazy eyes, consumed by that weird feeling of physical embezzlement, I suddenly noticed how much I liked myself in that suit.  
It was tailor-made especially for the occasion, flattering my adolescent physique in all the right places; generous on my shoulders and tight on my hips. Made from the finest fabric in a dark, yet warm and uncompromising aubergine to accommodate my fair features.  
I had never looked at myself that way before. I was a man now; ready to prove my worth and looking sharp as a blade; dominant, ready, dangerous. And I very much liked what I saw.  
As my body temperature rose, so did my hand, hesitantly, to touch my own chest. The unexpected intensity of the sensation was unreal and sent thrills down my spine - I opened my mouth and exhaled sharply. It was as if my own appendages suddenly belonged to another being, and as flattering and unexpected was their touch.  
When I met my own glance in the mirror, my dark amber eyes stared back at me with an unfamiliar, predatory quality. I ran my fingertips through my ginger-golden hair, examined the exotic, well defined features of my face, caressed my throat in awe; then descended to greet the lower areas of my body with tense anticipation. Let's say, my hands’ curious affection was met with a hardened stance.  
Up to this point I had never been so thick and swollen in my life. The motion of my heavy breathing alone, slightly rubbing the fabric over my loins made me tremble with inexplicable excitement.  
All my senses seemed to be heightened, my sensibility high-pitched like a disturbing radio signal. The silky, cool texture of my suit’s fabric was flattering my skin, and feeling it tightening around my member was exhaustingly arousing. Maybe there was a moment of hesitation, questioning why I felt so poor if the ordinary, but it passed quickly, drowned in the sensory overload. Every touch was an explosion of pleasure, and gazing upon my own body in the mirror was filling me with an unknown ecstasy. Resistance to the desire of my own hands’ caress and emotional arousal was futile and I succumbed to the vanity and ecstasy of pleasuring myself right where I stood.  
While I explored my body hungrily for what felt like the first time, - but I assure you wasn't, - completely enthralled by my reflection, I noticed the unnatural dark shade that had befallen it. Unable and unwilling to look away, working myself, trembling under my own touch like a virgin in the arms of a skilled whore, my likeness in the mirror changed.  
A shadow had fallen over my face although there was sufficient light in the room. My eyes beyond the glass looked at me from a distance; not a physical but an emotional distance. Sharp edges were painted on my features by what seemed to be an intense, red, thick sheen only present in the reflection. While I moaned and squirmed under my own touch, trying desperately to prolong the inevitable spill, the other me stared back with hungry, obsessive anticipation. Unmoving and still like a wolf focused on its prey, his eyes touched me and fueled my urges on a primal level.  
Unable to look away, unable to stop or break the gaze, panting and sweating, I eventually spilled my liquid all over myself and the mirror while he watched from what seems so far away today - but felt like the closest, most intimate contact with another being in my whole life back then. 

When I was done I succumbed to the calm and unintelligent state of mind that we all know from an aftermath of natural pleasure, sinking to my knees in front of the mirror. But what marked this occasion as very unnatural was that I physically felt my body immersing into a warm, thick liquid that welcomed me and swallowed me whole.  
While the light of reason faded from my world, the last thing I saw was him, leaning forward and reaching out of the mirror while the black goo pouring out of its surface welcomed me into the underworld.  
His eyes had turned all black with his iris gleaming red like burning coals - and while I sank deeper into the warm embrace, more eyes opened on his dark silhouette in places unimaginable. What should have made me gasp in terror left me trembling with anewed, narcissistic arousal - still swollen and wet, I longed for his touch.  
His lips formed words I heard resonating in my dulled mind like a sweet lullaby while I drifted away on the high tide of a powerful orgasm: “You are mine.”

Temptation of Adolescent Yakobar - by [Nievaris](https://www.deviantart.com/nievaris)

Forgive my romantic, flowery choice of words, here, but as you might know, dear reader, you never forget the first time a passionate lover takes you with heart and soul. It leaves quite an impression.  
So, imagine this passionate feeling and multiply it by ten and you might have an idea of what it felt like when my Daimon seduced me for the first time. Unfortunately, like every crime motivated by carnal desire, this one wouldn't be without dire consequences.


	3. Shortcomings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mood Song: [Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds - Fifteen Feed of Pure White Snow](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4sfhvxTZ0wo)
> 
> If you enjoy my stories, consider leaving some kudos and/or [buy me a ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/alexejaxis).

As you are still with me, I assume the sudden dash of… spice in my story didn’t make you turn away. Maybe, you even enjoyed it a little, yes?  
Good, as in chapters to come, there will be less naive tales of romantic involvement and bodily passion; truthfully presented only to benefit the point of my story of course. But again, I fall prey to the vice of foreshadowing, which is one of many obnoxious habits of mine. Not as obnoxious and hard to leave behind as the opium habit of course.  
Ah yes. I mentioned ‘coping mechanisms’ and doctors which had been summoned to treat my ‘condition’ previously.  
Let's take a moment for a closer look at what a person I was at this stage of my life so everything makes sense later on. 

By the time of my true awakening, as gently described in the last chapter, I had been submitted to various experts and been subject to as many therapies to calm down my temper, subdue my hallucinations, and cure my insomnia. In short, by the time I came off age and joined my father in business officially, I was a wretched mess of a drug addict.  
Untrained and unaware of the aetherological laws tied to my new condition, the first symptoms of my awakening were literally throwing me off the roof. I mean, start bleeding out of your eyes or throw up your own body weight in water and try to stay positive about your situation. I prefered to stay at the nice end of a bottle, a pipe or a pill, personally - it was what the doctors prescribed, anyway. But I wasn’t aware of how severe my addiction was at this point and I would live through many ups and downs in the next couple of years. Luckily for me, before every new low there’s usually a high, and reminiscing about it now actually makes me smile, so allow me to share that happy place with you for a moment.

After my Daimon kissed me awake, and we stood united against the world, the nightmare ended and I started to see the Otherworld more clearly, as it welcomed me as a part of its own. My unstable journey through various random sins and symptoms came to an end, eventually settling for my imprinted flaw, that raw, peculiarly honest Greed for power that’s possessing all Witches’ & Warlocks’ hearts, calming down the side effects of not being part of either of the worlds. But of course I knew nothing about the reason behind my suffering and sudden relief back then; and how I was by no means off the hook.  
And the drugs made life sweeter in any case, so why stop if there was something to celebrate, right?  
For the moment I just felt like this burden was taken from me forever, that I lived through it, somehow. I cannot describe the feeling of relief when I slept through a night without fever shakes or nightmares for the first time in months. All my supernatural senses settled, the confusion and sensory overload passed and I could clearly distinguish between what we call the Outer and the Inner Worlds. 

And I could see for the first time.  
See through the Veil that separates the world I knew from the worlds beyond. My reality became a shimmering place with spirits and ghosts and strange phenomena hiding in every corner. I remember I spent hours sitting on the roof of my parents’ house staring into the sky at night, watching the stars twist and turn and travel through the Void - trying to focus very hard to pick up a scent, a sound or a feeling from the beyond. When I succeeded, I could feel the spirits gathering around me, small sluggish creatures and wild, hysterical little beasts, drawn to my aura of cool, complacent darkness like moths drawn to the light.  
Now that I could feel and see and study them, I wondered how those little buggers could have spooked me so much during my awakening.  
And studying them I did. Every time one of our servants dropped something in the house, my horse spooked in the park or my father's machines malfunctioned, I peeked into the beyond with excitement. And more often than not, ghosts and spirits were around - and I started to understand the patterns and connections between the beyond and the mundane. I noticed the Veil, this thin layer of aetherphysical cloth that separates the Otherworld from the realm of flesh, but is by no means solid, but semi-permeable as a surface; allowing crafty things from the beyond to slip through unseen or influence the here and now through their resonance and action. I couldn't always see them as it was hard to focus at first, but soon, I'd come around and managed to feel into the Other to taste them.  
It was as if I had gained a completely new sense that I can hardly describe - especially today as it has become more relevant and true to me than every other notion. Scrying into the next world or even deeper is like singing a song, trying to hit the right tune until it resonates and syncs; like carefully running your fingertips over the radio dial, trying to find a signal in between dead channels; expanding your soul, reaching out with your aura; like tip-toeing to peek beyond a hedge that's just as tall as you, or popping a whole cherry into your mouth, trying to discard of the stone and stem with your teeth and tongue instead of your hands for fun.  
It was captivating and alluring to play catch with ghosts and shadows to learn more about this new world - so I spent the first month or so in childish bliss; recovering from my trauma and just exploring without trying to interfere too much. And I would lie if I’d been saying the drugs didn’t help me perspire in the beginning; especially the sweet smoke of the moon juice that is capable of bringing transcendent dreams to even the dullest of mortals.

But I wouldn't be me and I wouldn't be in that unfortunate position and state today if that naive sense of wonder had satisfied me for long. 

My ambitions brought me to realise, that I could not just taste the cherry in my mouth, it was more fun to devour it and tie the stem in a knot with my tongue. I started out manipulating small and dull spirits, and got so good at it that it got boring soon. So I learned there were darker, more sinister and fun creatures about. Things people were very validly afraid of. And I learned that I had the power to temper with- and manipulate them to do my bidding because the darkness I carried inside of me was so much deeper and more complex than theirs.  
The epiphany was more invigorating than anything I had ever experienced, and with my Shadow at my side, I felt like I could conquer all of the worlds.

In case you are coming from a place where different terminologies are used, dear reader; there are a billion little worlds in the Beyond, but we predominantly differ between four spaces that make up our universe.  
The Inner World is the world of flesh and bone - what normal human beings call ‘Reality’. A misleading term, as the other realms aren’t any less real. They are just further away from the paths regular humans walk while they are awake - or alive. But since the world shattered, or so say the scientists and their books, everything became Aether and was then reassembled through the collective consciousness of all souls, and now our universe is an illustrious place where spirits and spectres, souls and lost ones exist right next to the world of flesh and bone.  
This world, described as ‘The Innermost Sphere’ or ‘Meta Realm’ by Aethernauts to use scientific terminology, is encapsulated by at least three other spheres, each one bigger than the next and including all the previous ones in it’s cosmos.  
The Limbo is the world behind mirrors; closely resembling and gently nestling around the Meta Realm. You might have travelled there in your dreams before.  
After mirrors shatter, there are shards and flinders. And that's what you'll find behind the Limbo, a world made of shattered dreams, fragments of memories in an ocean of loss and sorrows; Purgatory. It is where souls go to be purified after they die, so they can be reborn, and also the reason why none of us remembers their past lives.  
And beyond Purgatory there lies the Void and within it, there rest a billion fragmented worlds and spheres, each a reality of their own. And these my dear reader are the stars we look up to at night and their realm is called Tartarus. 

Usually, the Tartarus is too far away for human beings or even Marked Ones to simply reach the stars. But Phenomena can pull them closer, so close that they touch the Meta Realm and open a direct path; a doorway so to say. And as those Phenomena breach and overlap in many places in this wretched world, human beings unfortunate enough to stare into the Otherworlds in dreams or under the influence of drugs, tend to be damaged - depending on the experience.  
Even more unfortunate ones might get lost in them entirely when there is a breach of the Veil - the thin barrier separating the Meta Realm from the Beyond, as explained.  
As a Marked One though, and that’s what I was or had just become, you are chosen to bond with by a powerful Daimon or Soul who reaches out to you from Tartarus - and that’s why you become a being capable of existing in any of these realms. The interim of becoming the new you is… quite the ride, as mentioned, and it never stops being interesting to be attached to a creature from the Beyond, as I will tell you in much, much more detail in this tale.  
This pact is impacting your soul for all eternity, through all henceforth incarnations. There’s no coming back from your deal with the proverbial devil, but it would be a rather unfortunate business if you wouldn’t get anything out of it of course. And as you might have figured by now, I am not one for making bad business deals.

I referenced to MY devil as ‘my Shadow’ before I even knew all these technicalities. A term that’s misleading for reasons and that I have been taught to drop entirely during my training, later on. We call this creature we pactition with a Daimon and the therin resulting ‘condition’ a Carnal as each of these devils is tied to a carnal sin that you most likely fell victim to even before the pact was forged in this life. It’s the reason why the Daimon develops an interest for your Soul in the first place.  
It doesn't come as a surprise that it is I'll advised to be lured in by this creature from the beyond. All modern teachings and best practices focus on leveraging its power without getting too close to it or falling prey to its temptation.  
Good advice.  
I wish someone had given me such.  
But despite the fact that I know better now, I sometimes catch myself calling him my Shadow even today as it brings back memories of a time of naive wonder in which me and my invisible friend sought to conquer the world of men.  
Rather dramatic, I know.  
Shortsighted.  
Naive.  
In my defense, I managed to keep up my masquerade for a whole year.

Yes. I have to say that I am still rather proud that in this great nation made of propaganda and surveillance, I managed to stay under the radar as a Marked One for a whole year, while not avoiding the public eye at all. Quite the opposite, actually.  
After my pact with the creature was sealed, I soon stood beside my father and aided him in building and ruling his economic empire as the face and voice of Lukìn Manufacturing and I never missed the mark.  
If you are from Kyi, my dear, then I can almost hear your hushed gasp. At least I can be sure that my family’s heritage has left too deep a dent in the city’s history as to be easily purged from the records… and rightfully so.

Our family business, established by my grandfather, started out with longplayer devices, but as we were advancing into the golden age of technology, my father had placed his bet on radios and communication like telegraphs and telephones. While this meant to take commission from the government, which was a dangerous game for a privately owned business that meant to stay that way, my father's strategic mind and my own keen business sense secured us a good contract. With the investment from that contract, we were able to secure our pole position in the communication and entertainment technology sector through his experience and my fresh ideas - and through ruthless exploit of my supernatural powers.  
Lukin is a name that is known in almost every household now.  
Not at least thanks to my achievements and pact with my Shadow - which would backfire soon enough. 

But before every sacrifice, there should be a celebration. And at least I daresay I made the most of it. When my Carnal had settled, my Greed was pure and I felt as much pleasure when crushing a mighty competitor as conquering a beautiful lady on a sheet of velvet. As my family was already rich, I sure enjoyed adding to our fortune, but material matters were the least interesting prize for me in a hunt. The only point that mattered was, I had to make something mine.  
Needless to say, my appetites weren’t easily quenched. As we all know, we have to battle the curve and as my hunger for success and excess grew, I started to fail my masquerade.  
I gave into my vanity and hubris; bathing in glory at parties, consuming whatever luxury pleasure there was; lay with women and men, consumed alcohol and drugs in excess. The 330s were an interesting and wild time and I am generally grateful I was allowed to be young during that period.  
From the newly acquired territories in the east and conquered ground in the south there came a flood of unexpected goods and temptations, like the sweet moon juice that soon filled our dives and back-rooms with the rich & heavy scent of lustrous dreams, freed Roman sex slaves that didn't have a concept for working in any other trait, spiced and spiked liquor, sweet aphrodisiac wine, lewd arts and craft and even more importantly, a new lust for pleasures beyond our prude & strict rules. The war effort against the Roman Empire soon became a war on drugs and a seemingly lost battle for morals within our cities and citizens’ minds. The exposure to ideas so far beyond our own values was impossible to drown out entirely even by our almighty founders and their propaganda, and would change our culture forever.  
Especially the young elite who could afford such expensive black-market products and who were too well-educated to blatantly believe all propaganda revelled in the new sensations - and you won’t be surprised to hear, that I was one of these pioneers of pleasure.  
But simple past-times could only satisfy my greed for so long; they were merely a short-lived reward for my victories. And I only traded in the finest of schemes. In a world shared with spirits who reside only an arms length away, are but unreachable for any human being unable to permeate the Veil, I suddenly saw my unlimited potential to get the upper hand against our competitors in business.  
I had a knack to manipulate spirits early on and summoned and bound spectres to my will to breach other businesses’ security measures to steal their secrets. That's what I call a gamble; especially with no proper training; as those vile creatures are quite powerful and vicious - and the fines for industrial espionage quite high.  
My recklessness paid off though, and my family’s business came out on top within the year. 

While I had been careful in using my limited supernatural skill set after the Seven Circles ended, I realised how I could easily use spirits and use people through the powers my Daimon had granted me. I just needed to reach out for my Shadows, leveraging his power and listen to his sweet whispers and anything could be mine. Of all addicitons I feel like success is the most vile drug; always leaving you craving for more after every victory. So I started acting more and more reckless over the months, building up a dragging force I knew nothing about at the time; foolishly believing that there was nothing in the world that could stop me.  
I didn’t notice how my shadow got longer and darker every time I reached out for Him to aide me, or how others seemed to notice my presence; - others like me - while the days grew shorter and the year drew to a close.

But I knew nothing about how karmic balance works, back then. So whenever I felt uneasy, when the pressure rose or the whispers got louder, I pushed it all aside and retreated to my old drug habits to somehow manage and subdue the inevitable for a little longer. And although I had noticed the Others, and should have suspected by now, that I wasn’t the biggest fish in this pond, I preferred hiding behind reddened eyes and pale skin in a smokey back room of an opium den instead of taking precautions. We all know nothing comes for free - and my payback would come with high interest.

Excuse me for building up for pages, but a true drama needs a proper stage to entertain. That stage is set now as a classic set-up for big reveals; adolescent overconfidence and a moment of truth during a public event. So without further ado, let's revisit the night of the Stellaris Incident from my perspective.


	4. Point of no Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mood Song: [Anna von Hauswolff - Pills](https://youtu.be/ewYkQZ6mTi0?list=PLuqD54SqqWNlDWIc9EuA8Yhw0k-huv_7a)
> 
> If you enjoy my stories, consider leaving some kudos and/or [buy me a ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/alexejaxis).

The night of the Stellaris ball in 335, an annual turn-of-the-year-event where the Kyier elite celebrates itself, reminiscing over the victories and gossips, the scandals and political schemes of the past year, was the peak of my short career as a social hustler. It was also the night of my 20th birthday, and I was planning to celebrate it with a bang. 

During our latest advertisement campaign, one of my strategies had drawn massive attention and generated record sales on radio-receivers. After donating a dozen public speakers and radios to various community locations in Kyi and dropping the price of our latest long player significantly, we were sure to land a hit. It was risky, but radios were still too expensive to be mass-produced and I figured by making the lowlifes crave entertainment on a level they could not afford, the discounted - and vastly outdated - longplayer device would be the next best thing to fulfill that craving.

And it worked like a charm. They reached so deep into their pockets, they came out the other end of their children’s lot’s mouths. No matter how poor, the idea of being a part of the world outside, in arm’s reach - they couldn’t possibly resist.Why invest in a bed that you have to share with three other tenants in a run-down shed, sleeping in shifts after a long, hard day’s work at the factory if you can buy a longplayer instead, sharing stories, tunes, fairy tales that take you all right out of your misery and into a fantasy of a life you’ll never have?

Unquenchable greed was a thing I had grown accustomed to over the past year, alongside with coping mechanisms to subdue the harrowing side-effects of me indulging my Sin and using my powers. I was bound to my very own EGO through visions of grandeur and lust for power, and tonight, I would have the Kyier elite acknowledge my genius on a larger-than-life scale.

I could already see the headlines and smell the fresh ink on the morning papers, ph and headlines there would be. There would even be a special edition. But alas, not as I would have hoped for.

Not as I would have ever imagined. 

 

“And that, comrades and colleagues, brothers and sisters, is why the media revolution is coming and I strongly believe in it bringing progress and prosperity to our great nation. And we of Lukin Manufacturing are a family of engineers, inventors and visionaries; we will spearhead this revolution and put communication devices at the people’s fingertips. 

With care and quality our humble family business will give back to the City and its people by employing another 50 local workers and expanding our business to the new and progressive telekommunikation sector. 

Our vision is that by the end of next year, we will lead everyone in Kyi to the experience of being connected, empowered and privileged by matters of technology while supporting the war effort with our investment in public phone lines and telegraphs. For progress cannot stay a vision, it needs to be rolled out and forged by capable hands. The hands of our city!

For the Alliance! For progress!”

I remember when I stepped down from the podium, a rush of applause followed my speech. I wore a confident and winning smile as always as I was used to sway crowds at this point. Proceeding down the stairs, shaking hands and returning compliments, I approached my sister Liliyana to have the first dance of the night with her, as usual. My fraternal attention was short-lived, though. I knew the daughter of a powerful Minister was attending the ball as well and my thoughts quickly derailed when I saw her entering the room. 

She was the most beautiful and sought after prey for all the bachelors in town and I knew I would have her. I made eye contact while still dancing with Lily and when Oxana coyly bat her lashes and looked away with a blush, my daimonic instincts triggered a feeling of excitement and arousal. 

The hunt was on. 

I stepped up the pace of our dance to impress, and to lay my mark on my prey, I did something very foolish and inappropriate: Calling upon the power of my Shadow, I reached out with my aura, touching Oxana's soul. She looked up, surprised by the weird sensation and when our eyes met again, quick and nimble like a snake, I bit into the sweet, bare fruit of her soul to plant a thought of pleasure into her subconsciousness - associated with me, and only me. 

I transformed my need to conquer this prey; the thought of pressing her into sweaty, silken sheets, moving my lips over her skin while I came inside of her, owning her, right into her mind, making it the single-most desireable feeling in the world for her. When she blushed heavily and I felt her emotions respond with mutual arousal and a hint of shame, I was too excited to stay focused on my current dance partner. Lily noticed pretty quickly where my allegiance for the night lay and how there was hard evidence for my excitement that made my left leg a bit stiff to respond to her steps. (You mustn’t forget, I was adorably young and easily excited back at the time.) She was furious and dismissed me in a very vocal and public manner; resulting in her hand meeting my face with full force in the middle of the dancefloor.

When she stormed off, everything was quiet for an awful long 15 seconds and I suddenly felt very nauseous. That little thing, that mind intruding exercise I had performed on Oxana suddenly sunk very heavy onto my shoulders like a veil of grief and shame, amplified by Lily’s public dismissal and the stares of the entirety of Kyi’s upper class citizens. 

 

What I didn’t know, of course, was that my hasty and unnecessary use of my powers had called upon Guilt, not just the concept of it, but an actual force we Sinners don’t know any other name for, that is the currency in which we trade for our powers. And Guilt you see, builds up to form Anguish, engulfing our Soul in agony and pain, making it open up like a rotten fruit that falls to the ground, spilling it’s festering insides all over the place for everyone to see - revealing the worm at its core: The Demon that we ride, only then, it will ride us.

And that little drop of shame had tipped over the crystal bowl I had been filling so ambitiously over the past 12 months. And this time the vessel would burst and no drug intervention would save my grace. I had called upon me that Crimson Angel now settling grimly on my young shoulders for the first time - and oh I had fed them well.

Angeli Rosso you say? That’s the enemy's language. Why yes, I like that expression a lot. The Romans are very poetic and superstitious in their language, but my personal experience There is no better metaphor for what we bluntly call ‘Schlag’. 

Very different angles on the same subject, as well, coloured in by culture and heritage; but it’s always the same outline, a principle of punishment. All Marked Ones fall prey to this metaphysical trap: We use our powers, tapping into our Daimon's power to alter reality, upsetting the divine order of things. The Romans with their superstitious faith say the One who created the world and left it behind made a promise to never redeem a Sinner, and now there’s noone left to give absolve. Our great Nation likes to phrase it a little differently, quoting scientists and calculate the aether balance in the world and how any reaction causes a counter reaction by aetherphysical law.

The result is the same, either way: When we use our powers, we burden our soul with Anguish. At some point our Anguish becomes too much to bear, resulting in our Daimon taking a hefty bite out of our soul as a toll, demanding our attention and thus, colliding with reality, causing physical, mental and psychological damage. 

The phenomenon is called a Schlag - the point where our soul just bursts out in pain, rendering us vulnerable and useless for a while. The way that burst manifests itself is called Stigma. From the mighty Roman warlords over the savage warriors of the Wild Ones to little old me - nobody can cheat on their Stigma. It’s a debt we all have to pay, inevitably, and a debt we regularly gamble on - with our soul as a wager.

And I was about to find out what happens when you play at high stakes way too soon.

 

I tried to pull myself together and brush off that weird feeling of guilt. I think I dropped a funny remark of some sort and made an effort to leave the dance floor as if nothing happened. But while I took strides between the dancers, feeling as being pulled down by an invisible weight, my heart suddenly picked up the pace and the rush of adrenaline increased. My mouth was dry, my heart was pumping anger through my veins and I felt a dark and unusual rage getting hold of me. I unknowingly battled the Crimson Angel that had inevitably started to spread its wings and sink into me to deliver punishment for my sins. But as I was untrained in meditation and had no idea on how to influence the flow of a Schlag to my favour - disaster was inbound. 

My sister had publicly denounced me while Oxana, the prey of the day was watching. And she laughed at me. Everybody did.

 

My mind spiraled snapped. The hunt was forfeit and denial of my own guilt lead to anger towards my sister as the cause. That anger suddenly mixed with a threatening, twisted urge to hurt her in the worst possible way - to take her instead of the prize she had denied me - and spicing up the hunt by adding some...flavor. The flavor of blood...it was suddenly, inexplicably, on the tip of my tongue, expanding in my mouth like an explosion of rotten fruit - hot, disgusting, intoxicating and irresistible at the same time.. 

Ah, I remember it as if it was yesterday...so vivid and rich did this sensation sink into my brain and soul.

And down the rabbit hole I went, my thoughts downward-spiraling, my emotions out of control, my soul heavy, sensitive and vicious like a wounded animal. 

The Angel submerged, and I was taken hostage by primal fear. My stomach turned into a knot while I clenched my fists in distress to keep my hands from shaking, but to no avail. I couldn't stop thinking about how satisfying it would be to hurt my own sister, to take her by force, to b i t e her flesh… in unspeakable places...oh to hurt anybody in such a way - how could one even think about that? What was wrong with me?

 

Overwhelmed by disgust and fear, gagging from the scent and smell of clogged blood filling my mouth, I did retreat to the bathroom where my stomach finally turned. I stumbled into one of the stalls and hurled, pathetically. When I turned around, my legs were about to give in from the Angel’s weight. Distressed and confused by this sudden weakness my body displayed, I did the only thing that came to my mind: preparing a pipe with trembling hands in front of the mirror like the addict I was. 

I had been without severe ‘symptoms’ for almost twelve months, so their sudden return and the fear of losing control again made me insecure. I craved my medicine in a desperate attempt to not fall apart. 

Everything felt numb and distant and I couldn’t focus on the here and now. I wasn’t able to pull myself together and turn away from the savage need to sink my teeth into Lily’s flesh, forcing myself between her legs...

My gut felt like it was about to turn inside out again any minute while I couldn't help it but revisit the horribly arousing idea of ripping open my own flesh and blood to taste her after soiling her with my seed. 

I groaned and turned on the tap, splashed my face with water and rinsed my mouth in a desperate attempt to pull myself together and get rid of that foul taste. 

 

When I looked up again, I saw gleaming, red eyes staring right back at me. Way. too. Many. eyes.

 

I shrieked like a girl as his dark, fierce look pierced right through me, backed off from the mirror until I stood against the wall, breathing heavily, my slender yet firm body trembling, sweat forming on my skin. My Shadow returned a predatory smile and bared his teeth, distorting my own silhouette into a spectre ready to consume me. 

Where my delicate face should have been, there was his dark, menacing, wolfish grin; threatening me with a thousand sharp knives as teeth. His red, gleaming eyes; dozens of them; spread all over my darkened figure that was blurry, as if I was soaked in an oily, black liquid, oozing out of every pore. The moment I saw him, my consciousness caved in, leaving my scattered thoughts torn and my temples pulsing with a numbing pain. 

I heard myself whisper and murmur incoherently from a distance. I tried to stop, my tongue didn't obey. Muscles so tight my veins visiblly pounding against my skin, my eyes tried to focus on the pipe, which lay next to the sink. My thoughts slowed down while all my senses seemed to sharpen, painfully overloading me with sensory input. 

Suddenly, everything seemed too much, too intense to bear and before I knew it I felt myself slumbing to the floor, my knees giving in. 

 

The bright light in the bathroom, reflecting from very white tiles.

 

My own mumbling, that I couldn’t stop, loud as a crowd.

 

My body so tense I was violently shaking. 

 

The unbearable touch of the cold wall behind me, draining me of life and warmth. 

 

My Shadow behind the mirror cracked my face open like an egg, and laughed at me - a wheezing noise coming from beyond the glas like the dying breath of a wounded animal, trying to scream. 

A dozen eyes turned mockingly towards the pipe right in front of him. 

**“I dare you, dare you, danger boy** .” A voice like the sound of shattering glass cut directly into my head. 

I panicked, unable to make my body move closer to my reflection which was completely consumed by my Daimon’s appearance. Primal fear had taken hold of me like the dear who freezes, when facing the wolf. 

But the addiction was stronger than my anxiety, the promise of sweet, sweet release through the vapor of the moon seed too exhilarating. so I pulled myself together and dashed forward to go for the pipe. 

_ Just lite it up,  _ I thought.  _ Inhale - one deep breath - he’ll go away like all the other night terrors. _

While I moved forward, my Shadow mirrored my action, slowly raising his left hand, pressing it against the glass from the other side. He seemed so heavy, so powerful in this motion; so threatening. I struggled to keep up momentum, moving painfully slow as my limbs were suddenly heavy and numb; feeling like I was wading through deep snow - shaking with exhaustion. He leaned into the bending surface, coming for me, mocking me, and groaned in ecstasy as the glass began to crack. I raised one hand in defense, still shaking with primal fear, but couldn't make the decision to leave the pipe. I fought, battled the mind numbing slowness to pull myself together, finally touched the cool metal cylinder - as my Shadow smashed into the mirror with full force, shattering it into a thousand pieces, raining down on me like apple blossoms. 

I was so focused on the pipe, I didn't even cover my face. The shards came at me like bullets; like a cascade of knives, cutting my flesh, entering my eyes, blinding me. 

A black wave of oil spilled out of the broken surface like volatile vomit, hitting me with full force. The impact flung me to the ground where I crashed and burned in pain as if the inside of my body was on fire. He tore the Veil between the worlds apart like the wings of a dragonfly tatter in a storm, taking my breath away when he entered my world and forced himself upon me. He held me in a very physical embrace for a tender moment, breathing down my bloodied, wet face, drops of thick saliva falling into my black eyes, then I felt his body liquify into a cool, smooth mass like oil or tar that ran over my skin, building pressure until I couldn't breath… and finally passed out. 

 

My psyche’s incapability to deal with the overwhelming stimulation didn’t save me for long though. I found myself hurting, aching, blind - on the other side, gasping for air.

Just that it wasn’t, in fact, the other side. 

I was...INside.

 

Suddenly robbed of almost all sensory input - blinded by shards of the mirror, my skin hurting too much from the cuts as to be able to feel any touch, deaf from the dark matter that was seeping into my ears, speechless for it filled my mouth. I tried to scream, but there was only silence.

I had never physically been beyond the Veil at this point but that creeping feeling I knew very well from reaching out into the Otherworld to prey on spirits to manipulate. It loomed and towered over me like a henchman’s sword, ringing in my brain, resonating within my heart. It was overwhelming, a sense I couldn't describe, and that wasn't part of my human flesh.Alienated from the world I knew, this now was the sole source of sensory input I had, and it was brimming with the imprint of despair. 

 

I wept and curled up in my pain as the Schlag that had been building up over the past thirteen months threw me off reality’s roof and right into the underworld. Fading in that darkness, that I thought to be permanent as my eyes were pouring out of their sockets, falling deeper and deeper into the void, I suddenly felt the touch of my Shadow. Not in a metaphorical way.

No.

This time, it was real and there was no frontier, no imagination, no fantasy.

He grabbed me by the throat, squeezing my flesh, bruising my skin.

What is so familiar to me today, forced itself into me for the first time back then; like an alien invader, a parasite of fear. His liquid form embraced me, poured all over me, touched me in all places; there was no end to him. I could suddenly feel his cool, smooth appendages caress my hair. Kiss my skin. Lick my fingertips. I leaned into this touch, clinging to it like a drowning man, breathing heavily while blood ran into my mouth and nostrils from my wounds. 

The taste of human blood...it made me hungry.

For more.

He stopped, briefly, withdrawing himself from me, leaving me paralyzed and numb. I was terrified I would never feel a thing again in my life. I cried in relief, but the moment of calm soon became unbearable to me. A chuckling sound like angry cockroaches or hissing snakes was all I got in return for my desperate sobs - leaving me trembling in limbo. My whole body felt like a painful, very embarrassing, public erection, tense, hard and humiliating.

 

He made me beg. 

Beg for more.

For release.

And then, when I had surrendered to the feeling of involuntary arousal and shame completely, whimpering like a blind, newborn puppy, he came for me a second time. Pressed and poured into every hole in my body, directly into my soul. 

 

The feeling was so overwhelming. I felt like I was dying from the most intense orgasm I had ever lived through while my insides were squashed from the black mass filling me with unbearable pressure and pain. Struggling amplified my pain, so I clinged to him, leaned into him while I squirmed in an exquisite and intimate agony. 

Then suddenly, the feeling just stopped. 

 

He just pulled out of me, gently, and left, abandoning me all alone in the Void.

 

I remember I gently wept when I came to the realisation that I had been raped. 

I wept alone in that darkness until my cries turned into screams, but there was only silence.

For a moment, there was no pain, no pressure, there was nothing left except for his meandering presence that surrounded me and defined my world in that moment of conception. 

I realised that, as much as I wanted him to go away, to leave me forever, as afraid I was. He was all I could feel, touch, smell, taste and see. I didn't want to be left behind! 

And also. I realized I was still hard.

So when he turned to me again, reaching out for me, offering his touch, I was ready to welcome him. 

_ I asked for it. _

 

Oh he broke me so easily that night. 

He crushed me like a wolf breaks the neck of a young fawn.

_ How delicious I must have been. _

 

After what felt like an eternity in darkness and silence, a single red, gleaming eye opened and became my sole focus point of attention; hope and my anchor of despair at the same time. I still remember how I exhaled, my breath trembling, opened my arms and just let go. 

“I am yours,” I muttered like a deaf cripple.

Another eye opened, and another and another and countless eyes were lighting up my soul prison like a pack of wolves staring back at me out of the dark woods.

His voice broke the silence and forced itself into my mind, echoing like the last breath of a dying man, whispering into my ear, amused, no aroused - extatic even, two simple words: 

**‘Thank you.’**

 

I had never been so afraid in my life. 

I thought I died from fear right there.

I had no idea that the worst was yet to come.


End file.
